Bearing an Hourglass

by Piers Anthony

  "But I never believed in Heaven, Hell, or Incarnations!" Norton said.

  "Not consciously, perhaps. Do you believe in Good, Evil, and personal choice?"

  Telling point! "The baby—how can there be evil on his soul? He has not harmed anyone. In fact, he's a victim of circumstances manipulated by others."

  "True. Gaea is very sorry about that; she had not been paying full attention, so her gift to Gawain was flawed. By the time she discovered that, it was too late for her to correct it. Ge must obey Ge's laws, too."

  "Gaea—Ge—you mean Mother Nature?"

  "The Green Earth-Mother, yes. She is extremely powerful, but also extremely busy. She thought it a simple favor to one who was trying to do better in death than he had done in life, and she did not look deeply. Even Incarnations make errors—and such errors can be worse than those of mortals."

  "This error destroyed a man's line!" Norton cried.

  "Gawain will be given a second chance," Thanatos said. "Gaea has interceded with Clotho for that. This is her manner of apology."

  "The baby will be cured?"

  "No. That case is lost. Gawain will have the opportunity to remarry, more successfully."

  Norton felt another chill. "Remarry? He's going to divorce Orlene?"

  "No."

  "She'll bear another baby for him? But why, then, should he remarry?"

  "Orlene will have no other baby. This is the major portion of this first baby's accumulation of evil—responsibility for his mother's untimely demise."

  "His mother's demise!" Norton repeated, shocked.

  "I regret to inform you of this. But it will be easier for you if you understand. You bear no share of the guilt for this disaster. The blame is the baby's."

  "But the baby has done nothing!"

  "The baby is about to die. That destroys the mother."

  "But the baby didn't choose to die!"

  "In this case, I regret, the sin of the father is visited on the son. Had Gaea not interfered, the baby would have been healthy. You are of excellent genetic stock."

  "Oh, certainly," Norton agreed. "My family has always been healthy. But still—this transferal of guilt—I was the one who sired the baby! I had a dream—had I not—"

  "I do not profess to agree with every aspect of the system," Thanatos said gently. "I only assure you that it is so. You are blameless, in the case of the son and the case of the mother. You must understand that, while the fate of the baby is in doubt, that of the mother is not; she will proceed directly to Heaven. She is a good woman, as pure in her distress as she was in her happiness, and insufficient evil attaches to her for the manner of her demise to deny her her destiny. I will not be present for her; you will be. I hope your knowledge of the full situation will abate your discomfort. You are a good man and can have a good life, if you can pass this crisis without being corrupted."

  "The concern of Death for my welfare is touching," Norton said bitterly. "You tell me my—Gawain's baby must die, and the woman I love must die, but I should ignore all that and enjoy myself? Why do you bother?"

  "Because I dislike unnecessary pain," Thanatos replied seriously. "Death is a necessary thing and it comes to all living creatures in its proper time; it is right that this be so, for a proper death is the greatest gift to follow a proper life, but the manner of its occurrence differs. I prefer that the transition be accomplished with as little unpleasantness as possible and that no extraordinary measures be taken either to extend the agony of demise or to shorten the natural term decreed by Atropos."

  "Atropos?"

  "An aspect of Fate, who is another Incarnation. Atropos cuts the threads of life. When a person dies, the primary burden always falls on the living; therefore much of my own concern is with the living, as it is with you. I feel compassion for mortals, for their lot is often difficult."

  "Compassion!" Norton exclaimed.

  "I realize this is difficult for you to understand or accept, but it is so."

  Norton stared into the hooded skull-face and discovered that he believed. This Death-specter, Thanatos, really did care. Thanatos was trying to help Norton bear what it seemed had to be borne. "That's all? You use your valuable time just to ease my concern?"

  "No time is passing," Thanatos said. He lifted his arm, showing the solid black watch. "I used the Deathwatch to suspend time so that I could converse with you at ease."

  "Thank you," Norton said, finding it simplest to accept this additional incredibility. He remembered how Orlene had frozen in place and he saw now that nothing in the forest moved, except themselves and the horse. Even the clouds were frozen in the sky, and the shadows had not budged. Truly, a supernatural power was in operation! "Must be nice, having a device like that. To control time itself, at need."

  "You have a similar artifact," Thanatos said. "That may be the other reason I paused for you."

  "Other reason? What is the first reason?"

  "The fact that you were able to perceive me. Few people not directly involved with death can sense my presence."

  "I love Orlene!" Norton said. "Anything that affects her welfare affects mine!"

  "Demonstrably true. And so you saw me—and I saw your ring."

  Norton glanced at his left hand. "Oh, Sning. Orlene gave him to me."

  "Excellent magic can be incorporated in small things," Thanatos said. "Sning, as you call him, is of demonic origin, and almost as old as Eternity."

  "But he's not evil! How can he be a demon?"

  "Demons, like people, differ. He is good—as long as he remains bound to the service of Good. You are fortunate to command his loyalty."

  This turn of conversation was so surprising that it distracted Norton from the horror of the main topic. "Sning," he asked the ring, "is Thanatos genuine?"

  Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

  "How can you verify this? Do you need to touch him?"

  Squeeze.

  "You object?" he asked the specter.

  Thanatos shook his skull, no.

  "Do it, then, Sning."

  Sning slithered off Norton's finger, into his palm, and toward the hooded figure. Thanatos pulled at the bone fingers of his left hand, and they slid off—in the form of a glove. Beneath it was a human hand, fully fleshed, complete with a smidgeon of dirt under the nails. He extended his hand, and Sning touched it with his tongue. Then the little snake curled back around Norton's finger, while Thanatos donned his glove and the hand became bone again. When in place, the glove did not show at all; the hand seemed to be genuinely fleshless, and Norton was sure it would feel that way.

  "He's genuine?" Norton asked Sning again.

  Squeeze.

  "And all that he tells me is true?"

  Squeeze.

  "You are a good demon?"

  Squeeze.

  It was enough. "You have amazed me," Norton said to Thanatos. "I did not believe in you, but now I do. I appreciate your courtesy—but I'm going to try to save Orlene."

  "Naturally. It is your way. The world is better for your concern." Thanatos stood and gravely extended his hand.

  Bemused, Norton stood also, accepting the hand. It did indeed feel like bare bones.

  "Mortis!" Thanatos called. The magnificent stallion trotted back, and they mounted. Then the animal ran a short distance and plunged down through the ground and the occupied levels of the city. This time Norton could see that all the people there were as still as statues. One, in a rec-room, was caught in mid-leap, hovering half a foot above the floor. Time was indeed frozen.

  All by the mere touch of a bone finger on the Deathwatch! What dreadful power this Incarnation possessed, to be thus casually employed for the sake of a private interview. If this was an adjunct to Death, what power did the Incarnation of Time possess? Norton's imagination failed.

  They landed on the floor of Gawain's level, dismounted, and reentered the apartment. Orlene remained frozen by the baby. Thanatos reached again for his watch.

  "Uh, thanks," Norton said, somewhat aw
kwardly. He was not resigned to what was happening, but he no longer blamed Thanatos. The somber figure nodded. Then time resumed.

  Thanatos stepped to the crib and reached for the baby. Orlene stared at him and screamed: "No! No! Go away, Death! You shall not have him!"

  Thanatos paused. "He is in pain. I will relieve him of that."

  "No! We have medicine!" She shoved at Thanatos, but her hands passed through him without resistance, as if he were a ghost. He had been solid for Norton, but not for her.

  "There is a time to die, and his time has come," Thanatos said sadly. "You would not want him to suffer longer." He reached down and drew out the baby's soul, like translucent tissue. Gaw-Two's labored breathing stopped and he relaxed, looking strangely comfortable in death. His travail was over.

  Orlene sank to the floor in a faint.

  Thanatos faced Norton again. "I regret," he repeated. "Yet it is a necessary thing I do." He folded the soul and put it in a black bag he had brought forth. He walked out.

  Norton felt numb. He went to Orlene and lifted her to the couch. She felt horribly light; she had lost even more weight than he had thought. This ordeal was destroying her!

  Then he used the phone. "There has been a natural death," he told the face that came on the screen. "Please send appropriate service to this unit."

  The girl nodded. This was routine to her; she did not feel the horror of it. He held the connection long enough for her to get a fix on the address, then disconnected. He went to attend to Orlene.

  Now, he knew, came the hard part. He was numb, but not insensitive. What would he do when she woke?

  She woke, and he did it. He told her the baby was gone. This was not the occasion for euphemism.

  "I know it, Norton," she said. "Please excuse me. I have some things to attend to." She went to the bedroom.

  Was that all? He could hardly believe it!

  She was that way for several days, calmly going about her business. Norton did not know what to make of it. She had been so desperate and, now that the worst had happened, was so composed. Had Thanatos misjudged her? Perhaps, after a suitable period, the two of them could enjoy each other's company again and generate another baby, a healthy one, for the estate. Slowly, Norton's hope strengthened.

  Then, ten days after the death of the baby, when Orlene had set all her affairs in proper order, including careful instructions for the disposition of her few individual belongings and her body so that there would be no awkwardness, she took poison. Norton found her slumped at the piano and knew as he saw her that it was too late, that her last note had been played. She had, of course, arranged it that way. She had not even said good-bye—and in that she had not been cruel but sensible, knowing he never would have let her do it, had he known.

  Chapter 4 - CHRONOS

  Orlene had not truly loved him, Norton now knew. She had not been free to, so she had transferred it all to the baby. She had loved Gaw-Two—nothing else. Norton had been a means to the end of the accomplishment of her contract and good company along the way. Perhaps she had thought she loved him, but now the truth was shown. Had she loved him, she would not have left him like this.

  It was ironic, he thought, how she had used her magic perception, the glow, to determine the best prospect for a consort—and then been defeated by a problem in another area. The liability had not been in her consort, but in her husband, who had interfered with the process and subverted it, with the best of intentions. And perhaps the liability had also been in Orlene herself, for she had proved unable to survive the first great disappointment. Another woman would have cried and suffered, then gone on to conceive another baby, one who would redeem the effort and restore love and happiness.

  Norton himself had been an almost coincidental figure, as intended by the ghost—and now was in love with a dead woman. What recourse did he have?

  He doused his fire and retreated to the lean-to he had made from branches and leaves. He lay and looked out into the dusk. He was back in his preferred lifestyle, hiking and camping alone, but now it lacked the joy it had offered before. He had no immediate financial problem, thanks to the bequest Orlene had made. She had indeed been meticulous, taking care of everything, before she died. Her note had recognized the service Norton had performed, pointed out that the loss of the heir had been no fault of his, and requested that he be given limited credit in the account of the estate for life. Gawain the Ghost had authenticated the bequest, and the credit had been granted. Though Norton used it sparingly, he did find it helpful. It was handy to replenish supplies for hiking, as Orlene had intended—if she had not loved him, she had certainly been very fond of him—and when he drew on the account, this gave him a poignant awareness of her. How could he turn down her little gift, her tangible token of affection?

  A figure appeared before him. "At last I have found you!" Gawain said. "I knew if I searched the parks long enough, I'd succeed."

  "Go away," Norton muttered, shutting his eyes.

  "Of course, the credit account helped," the ghost continued blithely. "That gave me the latest update on your whereabouts. But there are an awful lot of trees to check through! It would have helped if you'd left a trail—but you're too good a woodsman for that. You don't litter, you don't pollute, you don't waste—I'm lucky I caught the cloud of steam from your doused fire, or I would have passed you by again."

  "Be my guest," Norton mumbled, trying to block his ears. "Pass me by again."

  "You see, I've got another proposition for you," the ghost went on, refusing to be annoyed. "I liked the way you performed on the last."

  Norton's eyes snapped open. "Damn it, I dreamed I would destroy her—and I did! My vision was correct. I planted the baby whose death shattered her life! Don't thank me for that!"

  "You know that's not so," Gawain said reasonably. "You did your job. My interference was responsible. I've learned my lesson; I'll keep my finger out of the next pie."

  "How can you?" Norton demanded, annoyed by the metaphor. Pie, indeed! "She's dead! You may not have loved her, but I did, and now she's gone."

  "Well, you see, her death has freed me to marry again," Gawain said. "Now I can find another woman, or my folks will, and she can bear my heir. I don't know who she'll be, but I can guarantee she'll be attractive, talented, and intelligent—your kind of woman, Norton!—and will do what my folks tell her to. So I want you to return to the estate and wait for her, and to—"

  Norton was appalled. "To service another woman? Don't you understand? I loved Orlene! I never want any woman but her!"

  "Well, sure, and I appreciate your loyalty," the ghost said, disconcerted. "But it might be good therapy for you to—"

  "No!"

  "I know you're a good man. That's why I want you for this. I know you'll produce a good baby and not try to despoil the estate."

  Norton shut his eyes again. "Go away. Find some other sucker."

  "You know what the real problem was? I wanted to be sure the baby was male. That's why I sought Gaea. Okay, I said I'd learned my lesson. You can sire a female, that's okay, I won't interfere—I'll just wait for the next and you can keep the girl if you want her. It's the boy I must have. I absolutely guarantee not to mess the pudding this time!"

  "GET OUT OF HERE!"

  The ghost sighed. "I'll go, but I'll be back."

  When Norton opened his eyes, Gawain was gone. But it took Norton a long time to get to sleep. His heart still hurt, though it had been two months since Orlene's death.

  After another two months, Gawain came to him again, catching him in another forest park. All the major cities were parked on top in the twenty-first century; it was one of man's necessary compromises with nature. Some cities featured natural wildernesses; others had magic gardens or alien landscapes. Many stocked exotic creatures in special habitats. From space, it was hard to tell the planet Earth was still inhabited by man-and that, Norton felt, was the way it should be.

  The ghost fell in beside him as he walked. "I've got her,
Norton," Gawain said without preamble. "Lovely beyond belief! Sexy as a woman can be without driving every nearby man to madness. Name's Lila. Just come see her, and you'll—"

  "Go away," Norton said. "I told you before, I'm not interested in any other woman."

  "But you can't go on moping forever! It's been four months, and you're a healthy, living man. You have natural urges. And Lila is ready for you; she's seen your picture. She likes you, Norton! In her arms you'll forget—"

  Norton swung his fist furiously through Gawam's body.

  "Can't you understand? I don't want to forget Orlene! I love her! I always will!"

  "This isn't healthy, Norton," the ghost remonstrated. "Your body's fine, but your mind is in an unreasonable depression. I know how it is; I would be in a funk for days after I let a dragon escape. It would really be better if—"

  "Never!" Norton cried. "Go find another stud! I'm out of this!"

  Gawain shook his head. "You don't know what you're missing. Lila, when she walks—"

  "Away! Begone, foul spirit!"

  Daunted at last, the ghost vanished.

  But every month or so, Gawain returned, insisting on pestering Norton with reports. Another man had been found—Lila had accepted him—she had not been given a choice—the two were going at it like professionals—Lila was pregnant—the man had skipped town, good riddance!—the fetus seemed to be developing normally—the heir seemed assured.

  Meanwhile, Gawain insisted on giving Norton the lessons in dragon fighting he had originally promised. Norton finally relented to that extent. It was evident that the ghost was trying diligently to stay away from his second wife and incipient baby, observing but not interfering in any way, but still lacked confidence to depart this world entirely. Thus he used Norton as a companion to keep himself out of mischief. Too many fingers spoiled the pie. So Norton studied dragon slaying, though he never expected to make use of this skill.

  "First you have to have a good sword," Gawain said. "Preferably an enchanted one, but it's best to learn on a mundane one, to be sure you have the basic skill. My old sword will be excellent, and I'm sure the estate will release it to you."